Distractions
by no.safe.exit
Summary: These nights of debauchery have turned into a bad habit, one that I wouldn't break if it could save my life. I am left to pick up the pieces of what's left of myself and our pseudo-relationship. Will Marik ever feel the way I do? Deathshipping / SLASH ; Warnings Inside
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Marik." I smile, failing to keep the eagerness from my voice. I open the door wide, inviting him in. "Bakura has already gone." I rush him inside before I freeze from indecent exposure to the elements.

Though it is early evening, the sun has long since descended in the sky. Moonlight glistens softly off of the freshly fallen snow. I hurry to take his heavy leather coat to hang by the door, secretly inhaling it's musky scent. The cold clings to his fingers as he takes my hand in his. He squeezes lightly upon contact, and I can't stop the grin from forming."Would you like something to eat? I made burgers for dinner, and there is some left if you are hungry."

"Sure, Ryou, sounds nice." His voice, low and deep as always, has a strange inflection. He doesn't even crack a smile or make a snarky comment about my choice of clothing : an over-sized, holey T-shirt and boxers. His lack of response bothers me.

"I know it's not much, I'm sorry." I rush about, pulling out the necessary condiments. As I brush past him to get the bread out of the pantry, he grabs my shoulder. I stop, and our eyes lock. His eyes are dark, almost pitch-black, and soul-stealing. Unnerved, I break away.

"Relax, Ryou." He sighs and takes the bread from me, sitting down to prepare his sandwich. Sitting down opposite, I watch as he makes his sandwich, and politely look away as he begins to eat. My eyes wander elsewhere around the room, catching the blinking red light on the telephone indicating a missed call and voice mail. Ignoring that, I glance back at Marik. His eyes are on me, watching curiously, and I can't stop myself from looking away. I wish that he would say something already.

"Marik, is something wrong?" I bite my lip and look down at the table, studying the wood grain intently, sure that I've stepped into dangerous waters. I usually refrain from getting into his personal life, but tonight his behavior is too unsettling to ignore. His movements halt, and he slowly looks up at me with that ominous gaze, and my heart almost stops beating from the look he gives me: a silent, emotionless stare. To my expectation, he answers in the negative.

"Nothing is wrong. Are you ready?" He finishes his last bite and stands. Holding his hand out to help me up, he flashes a signature smirk. His quick change in demeanor is unsettling in itself, but I quickly stand and take his hand, following him up the stairs to my room. As soon as we enter, I am pushed against the door, my back hitting the wood hard. Moonlight reflects off of the mirror on my dresser, illuminating the room slightly and causing Marik's features to glow. His eyes are shining bright, and his smirk is still in place. Roughly, he takes my mouth in his, kissing me long and deep. A few nips to my lips has me returning his kiss with full intensity. His tongue battles for dominance, and I allow him to take over. After a few passionate moments, we break contact to breathe. As I try to catch my breath, Marik leans in and whispers into my ear.

"Tonight is special, Ryou." He licks the shell of my ear, darting his tongue inside, and causing a shiver to run down my spine. Picking me up, I gasp and wrap my legs around his waist, clinging tightly to his shoulders. My arousal digs into his toned abdomen as he carries me to my bed. My head leans on his shoulder, and I breathe in his spicy scent. My tongue flits out to lap at his neck.

Tossing me onto the bed, I let out a sigh and move over to the center of the bed. "I have something good planned, Ryou. Do you trust me?"

Swallowing, I nod slowly, understanding his reason for asking. He leans down to kiss me again, this time to soothe my fears. His tongue laps lazily at mine, and I moan into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck. Oh, how I wish he would make love to me, just once.

I pull my shirt off and toss it to the floor, my boxers following after. I lie there waiting, the cold air causing my skin to prickle. Marik strips in front of me, casually touching himself as I watch. His smirk is gone, replaced completely by lust. Before he makes his way over, he grabs a small bottle of oil from my dresser, and places it on the nightstand next to the bed. He looks at me, and we make eye contact. His eyes are dark pools shining like ink as he stares intently at me.

"Ties in my closet, tape in my drawer." I silently encourage him to hurry, and roll over on to my stomach.

Marik prepared the ligature, slipping it around my neck. His fingers tickle as they brush against my throat. I breathe in slowly, deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves.

Spread eagle, he ties my wrists and ankles to the bed with a non-adhesive black tape. A blindfold- another tie- covers my eyes. I lie naked and vulnerable, waiting anxiously for him to begin. This is not our first time with BDSM, but it is only our second time using breath play. Despite my fear and lack of confidence, I know a little of what to expect.

Marik hasn't said a word since we began, and the quiet is almost eerie. We have never expressed much between ourselves; this silence isn't uncommon. What gets to me the most is what has seemed off-putting about Marik since he arrived that I still can't place a finger on. Trying to relax, I force myself to ignore the negative and to focus on enjoying the rest of the evening.

Cold oil pours over my back and trickles down my spine, causing goosebumps to form. He spreads the oil over my naked shoulders, and rubs in a sensual massage to my taught muscles. I sigh from his touch, enjoying every rare second. His hands explore the rest of my body, massaging the oil into my back, my ass, and my thighs. Leaning over me, he nibbles my neck, before biting harder. He laps at the area gently, as if apologizing.

Softly, he runs a hand up my inner thigh to land on my cheek, giving a quick squeeze, while a cold, slicked finger is slipped into my entrance.A second finger searches for my prostate, finding it easily. After a few prods, I let out a light moan. My member aches from lack of contact, I grind into the mattress, seeking more friction. Suddenly the fingers are removed. With a hand on my waist to keep himself steady, he plunges in and forms a steady, slow rhythm, causing my needy cock to rub against the silk sheets.

He runs his fingers through my hair, almost sensual, before he pulls sharply and I accidentally cry out from the harshness. As discipline, he slaps my ass hard, the pain like a million hot needles. He rakes his nails across my skin, scratching and leaving red trails across my cheek before continuing to thrust faster. With the new pace, my stiff cock rubs harder into the sheets. My wrists strain on the tape, and the bed squeaks with each powerful thrust.

Pulling out slightly, Marik adjusts his position and slams back in, hitting my prostate perfectly. I moan from the sudden pleasure. As punishment for making another sound, Marik leans and nips my shoulder before biting down hard, almost breaking the skin and causing my entire arm to feel numb. Marik pulls on the ligature, reminding me that it's there, and suddenly pulls it so that it strangles me, choking off my air supply completely. My eyes open wide behind the blindfold, and I begin to doubt our actions. Seconds pass, My eyes water, and my lungs burn already from lack of oxygen. When Marik finally releases the ligature I gasp lungfuls of air.

I don't have long to recover before Marik increases his pace and pulls the ligature again. Now he's leaning over me, his hands holding his weight on my upper back, forcing the remaining air from my lungs. His thrusts continue, always hitting my prostate, and I can hardly take the pressure anymore. Luckily, he doesn't wait too long to loosen the ligature this time. As I gasp for breath, I feel my head starting to pound, my ears ring. This position is painful, and the feeling of suffocation is more intense than the previous. My chest feels as if collapsed, and I taste blood. It takes another moment to regain my thoughts, and I begin to recognize the increased pleasure. I feel exhilarated, giddy. Through the haze, and the deafening pounding in my ears, I hear Marik moan heavily. I love the sound, and I crave more of it. My voice is hoarse, but I manage to choke out his name, forgetting briefly about a punishment. As I hoped, his thrusts became harder. With each trust, a pleasured grunt.

My cock is suddenly taken, pulled stiffly in time with each thrust, causing my body to react strongly. He pulls the tie again, harshly, because of the quick pace and lack of attention. I was caught off guard, and the roughness hurt my neck; I knew it would bruise by morning. His hand is still touching my cock, trying to bring me to completion but my time is running out. I struggle and choke, spluttering my safe word, but the tie remains tight against my throat. My mind is spinning. Finally he releases the ligature. Embarrassed and scared, I realize I've started to cry. His thrusting continues as if nothing had happened at all.

With another hard thrust, he grunts from his own mounting pleasure. With the tie still in hand, he pulls it tighter once again as he pushes us both over the edge. I scream silently, the very last of the remaining air rushing from my lungs. I vaguely recognize my cum soaking the sheets beneath me before total blackness overcomes my senses.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm drowning._ I swallow the frothing, dark green poison, desperately gasping for air, as a demon, angry and ruthless, attempts to pull me under to my death. The waves crash over me, the current strong and persistent. With each blow, I'm pulled ever deeper into the dark depths embracing me. My strength has dissipated; I know that I cannot struggle much more and I will sink to my watery grave. Far off, a sound, unfamiliar and quickly forgotten. The demon pulls me back, laughing, malevolent. A series of odd clamouring brings me to awareness. I gasp, realizing my dream, and attempt to force my eyes open, struggling to keep the tendrils of sleep from pulling me back into the depths. My mind is a haze, I feel suffocated. I cannot move my body, and I'm sent into a panic when I hear another crash and glass shattering. I gasp for breath, my heart beating out of control. Ultimately, I pull myself from my paralysis, sitting up straight in bed. The feeling of dread is overwhelming.

I sit completely silent with bated breath, listening for more cacophonous noise within the house. After moments of peace, the only sound heard is a shouted curse and footsteps. Confused and still in a stupor from my dream, I place my head in my hands. I can't think over the sound of my ears ringing and I have a splitting headache.

I throw my legs over the bed, searching around for the clothing I had discarded only a few hours ago. They are in a pile on the floor, boxers and old t-shirt. Clumsily, and with weak knees, I stand to my feet. I grab the T-shirt, and opt for a clean pair of boxers. Standing abruptly when another crash is heard, I double over in nausea, wave after wave of dizziness washing over me.

When righted, I stumble towards my dresser, grabbing clean boxers before hobbling to the bathroom, the feeling of nausea growing stronger. Dazed, I fall to my knees to heave in front of the toilet. With deep breaths, I attempt to control my breathing, trying desperately not to vomit._This damnable headache._

After a few gags, but no vomiting, I decide it's time to try again. When I reach the stairs, I lean heavily on the banister and slowly tread the steps. The house is dark, except for the light shining through the open blinds; the orange street lights giving everything it touches an eerie glow. Carefully maneuvering around furniture, I begin my trek to the kitchen, where Bakura's perpetual cursing stemmed.

"Bakura? Are you alright?" I ask, faltering slightly. I can see his silhouette, and little else. Stepping inside the kitchen, I step on a sharp piece of glass, I yelp and reach out for something to grab as I lose my balance. Bakura catches me before I fall, flipping on the light switch once I'm righted. Now I can fully see the destruction of our kitchen, dishes shattered over the floor, pots and pans scattered throughout. My sickness returns full force.

"Ryou." Bakura's face looks like death, pale and with bloodshot eyes. A dark bruise shines under his right eye. Suddenly, he grabs me, hugging tight. Hesitant, I return his hug, wrapping my arms lightly around his back. _Odd._ Very odd, especially considering his obvious anger and the destruction of the kitchen.

"Bakura, what's going on?" I release my hold on him, and he grabs me even tighter, almost squeezing the air from my lungs. He smells of alcohol and sweat. Fear grips me and I realize something is very wrong. When he loosens his grip, I stand stock still, waiting for his next move, instinctively bracing myself.

"Ryou, tell me right now. What the hell happened tonight?" he speaks quietly, but I know he is holding back rage. With every second that I don't answer, Bakura's anger builds. I shake my head, confused. I don't have a clue what he's talking about, and when I try to speak to say so, he cuts me off. "What the fuck happened between you and Marik?"

I wince, and step back, away from his shaking form. He lunges forward and grabs my shirt again as I take another step, halting me. "YOU BETTER FUCKING SAY SOMETHING RIGHT NOW!"

"Stop! Please!" I cry out, scared now. His warm breath, thick with the stale smell of alcohol, lingers in the air. "I don't know what you're talking about!" I flinch, fearing he will strike me. His face twists in disgust from my reaction, the lines on his forehead turned downward into a scowl.

"Don't give me that. You know exactly what I'm talking about. NOW TELL ME THE GODDAMN TRUTH!" With each word, he takes another step towards me as I retreat. When my back hits the door frame, I slip down to the floor. With shame, I hide my face, holding back a sob.

The night is silent once more, though the air has become heavy and suffocating. I can feel Bakura's scrutinizing stare as he stands over me, awaiting my reply. His questions aren't making sense to my fuddled mind, still wary from my nightmare only minutes ago. I have no answer for him; nothing I have done could warrant his actions.

"You don't know, do you." There is resignation in his voice, and I can't bring myself to lift my head to look at him. He kneels to my level and cold, slim fingers grasp my chin, forcefully drawing my eyes to his. I stupidly squeeze them shut in fear and defiance. Bakura slaps me harshly, the force of his hand whipping my head to the side. Hot needles pierce my skin where he made contact, and tears prick at my eyes.

I take a minute to compose myself before I hesitantly turn to face him. He is significantly calmer though there is still anger storming in his puce colored eyes. My nerves are shot; my entire body shakes and my mind has become numb. I lay my head on my knees and turn away one more, afraid to speak.

"Ryou, I'm sorry." He sighs, and despite his anger, he is sincere with his apology. "I'll explain." Grabbing me by the armpits, he lifts me to my feet and walks me away from the shattered remains and out of the kitchen to the small sofa in the next room. His hands are gentle, contradictory to his previous bout of anger. He takes a seat in the recliner next to me, turning on the lamp placed on the end table between us.

"As you know, I was out with Malik tonight. We were bar hopping, and happened to stumble upon Marik in one. He was drunk and babbling like an idiot." For a moment his face became cross and I watch as he slowly brings a hand to his face, rubbing hard circles into his eyes.

I am somber, taking in his words silently. I attempt to piece together the moments I remember of the night to figure out why Marik would have been at a bar, but I decide it isn't worth thinking too hard on. _Who knows why Marik does anything?_

"He said you had died."

It takes an eternity for me to register what Bakura has said, and when I do I stare at him in shock, feeling the blood rushing to my face, my heart pounding in my chest. I am nauseous again, my saliva thickening in the back of my throat. Neither of us speak. Bakura looks up at me, meeting my wide, disbelieving eyes, sadness and shame reflecting in his own.

That one look set me off and I snap, a sob escaping my strangled throat. My entire world has become blurry and twisted, and I am left lightheaded, numb. I have broken out into a cold sweat, goose bumps prickling my skin. My breath hitches, and I struggle to control my breathing, each shorter and more desperate than the last.

Rushing over to my rocking form, Bakura kneels in front of me, stroking his long fingers through my hair, attempting to calm me. There is a deep look of concern in his eyes, and I try desperately to keep my focus on those eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on desperately as my gasping sobs become full wails. We stay this way for a good while, my crying eventually calming down to sniffles.

"I don't remember a lot that happened last night." It's a quiet mumble, and not exactly what I had in mind to say, but at least it's a start. I bury my face in his hair, so identical to my own. I breathe deeply Bakura's smell, still of sweat and alcohol, the reminder causing another round of crying.

Eventually I run out of tears, wiping the remainder with my soiled fingers as best I can. Bakura gently disentangles himself from my clutching arms, stretching his stiffened muscles.

"We'll continue this conversation in the morning." With a yawn, he offers a hand to lift me up. I gladly agree, grateful for the chance to compose myself with a good rest before having to tackle the discussion once more. Taking his hand, I pull myself to my feet, yawning in return.

"Bakura.." I trail off, a little worried about what he might say. "Did Marik say anything else?" I sound desperate, even to my own ears.

Turning around to face me, he speaks low and seriously. "No, Ryou." He turns swiftly away and walks toward the stairs, not turning back once. "Nothing relevant."


End file.
